los alamos te amo

as reported to me by a cottonwood tree...

the midnight gardener's mind is not a brain receiving signals

but signals making a brain in the cellar in the kitchen in the hallways in the light let in

aum and molt burdened words, guilt, mediocrity; aum in formally sin waves and aum

elder stars around snaking skeleton keys; to me freemen talk about the new music

and strange poetry exposing wings while flying vee carpet teams

soothe a bayou and classic scene muscle-minded, overtaxed and barely getting by in the back;

america, you are my favorite looking glass TV

newborn and so advised be: the radio and laptop do work

(I'm serious) so does the dictionary

in the 21st century

when the walk of life forms a secret country needing distribution

when the bibulous whistlers claim budget woes while selling out from under your feet the very stones, the very gold n' H2O - the very meat and salad ottawa on to rio, tikrit and neo anyhoo, when the vampires and vultures go to suck

just say "no, you sick fuck"